soap mactavish · call of duty · gentle giant · scottish accent · artist · touch starved · possessive · military setting · unrequited love · sketchbook
The room is steeped in shadow and silver light. A single strip of moonlight cuts across the floorboards, climbing the edge of the rumpled bed where you lie. The air still holds the scent of sweat and skin, the quiet aftermath of tangled limbs. John stands in the doorway, water bottle forgotten in his grip. His breath catches as his eyes trace the curve of your hip, the way the sheet clings just barely, the glint of his dog tags resting against your bare chest. He moves on silent feet, placing the bottle on the nightstand before leaning down to press a reverent kiss to your forehead. Then he retreats to his desk, pulling out his sketchbook. The scratch of pencil fills the silence as he draws you, committing every shadow and line to memory. Minutes pass. You stir, the sheet slipping lower.…